Slowly Burning
by ro-lal
Summary: Vriska's lusus demanded a meal close to dawn and Vriska had no choice but to obey. She knew it was a really shitty idea, but what can you say to a giant screeching spider? Besides no, of course. Because that's not an option.


You are Vriska Serket, obviously the coolest spider troll in Alternia.

Well, maybe the only spider troll, but you're still a badass. It's a well-known fact.

You're also pretty much the best at everything. You're the best FLARPer, you gain all the levels (all of them, eight times over) in every game, you build the best doomsday devices (even the pieces of shit look cool), and even without your vision eightfold you're the best at caring for your lusus! Seven sweeps of awesome, coming through.

Actually she's the only thing that mars your perfect resume. The overgrown spider of a lusus demands to be fed almost constantly. She really wears you out! But you won't admit it, especially not to her. You're afraid of what she would do to you if you showed any signs of weakness. God, you hate that nasty bitch. All she does is eat, eat, eat, and complain, complain, complain until she gets what she wants. And what does she want? She wants you to go out and kill another stupid troll to feed her! You'd love to tell her to shove it and get off her own ass to do it, but really you would never dare. Never. You shudder to think of what would happen if you said that.

The only troll alive that knows how you really feel about your lusus and your job is that pesky meddler, Kanaya. AKA your moirail. Fussyfangs is really obnoxious about a lot of things, but secretly you're glad she's on your side.

You'd never tell her, though. Instead you hand her your endless bullshit and she takes it and holds it close to her vascular pump. Which is endearing, in a way.

God you're lucky to have her. She even makes dealing with your shitty lusus less of a pain in the ass.

Speak of the fucking hellbeast, you can hear her now, hissing and clicking and fidgeting all over the place, upsetting rock and dirt from the sides of the hole she dug herself into. She's calling you. She wants to eat again.

You crush a shitty 8 ball into the table as you stand, pushing your rolling chair back with the back of your legs and sighing. A glance out the window tells you it's getting late; the sky is notably composed of blues and purples now, instead of endless black. It'll be dawn soon, and at that point it'll be too dangerous to go outside. Sunlight and the undead and all.

Not that you're scared. There's just a difference between being brave and being stupid. A fine line, but it's there. Everyone else crosses it. You don't.

As you make your way down the hall and then the endless spiral staircase you try to formulate a legit excuse as to why you can't go feeding her at this very moment. It'll be hard, you think to yourself as you pass yet another doomsday device hanging by thick chains, but you may be able to do it. With a lot of persuasion. Probably involving the deaths of three trolls at once instead of just one.

Ugh. You hate your lusus.

The yellow remains of her last meal are everywhere. You'd think that if she was really so hungry she'd be more careful not to leave all these scraps but she does. Ungrateful shit.

All of her eyes focus on you as you cross your arms and glare up at her. Her pincers twitch and shiver as she growls an incoherent complaint to you. You can practically hear her stomach growling.

"No way," you snap even though you know she won't understand you. "It's almost dawn, do you want me killed?"

She somehow manages to narrow her many eyes at you simultaneously, and her chatter takes a dangerous edge. Shit, wrong approach. You stand your ground, but that look makes you nervous. Very nervous.

"Don't you get that I can't?" you protest. "It'll be too bright by the time I get back to actually feed you and then the whole thing will be pointless!"

You're ready for it when her first foreleg twitches forward, causing the part of the ledge you were standing on a split second ago to crumble and fall away. Your pusher is pounding in your throat. She means business. You swear colorfully and run a hand through your long, unruly hair, frustrated. You should've presented your argument when you had the chance. Now your lusus won't take no for an answer. At this point, it's either you or them. You're going to choose them.

Complaining to yourself or Fussyfangs about your lusus and her stupid demands falls to the back of your mind as seriousness rises to the front. You plan to make this quick. Very quick. Nervousness sets in deeper and deeper the more you realize you have a time limit. The Alternian sun is dangerous. As soon as it rises you're toast.

Better hurry.

Luckily you hadn't undressed for the recuperacoon yet when she'd called you. You grab your fluorite octet as you rush out the front entrance to your hive, mentally casting out your psychic web to make the job faster. It'll drain your energy a bit, but you know I'll be worth it later when you're not fried. Your mind flashes briefly to an image of your rotting body in the sunlight, the only untouched remains being your horns and your metal left arm. Your frustration hardens into determination as you toss the image aside. Not today.

The cold desert stretches out before you as you leave your hive and your neighbor's behind. Things always looks strange in the mornings, what with the pink and green of the Alternian moons casting odd shades on everything their colored light touch.

After only a few minutes you sense another troll a few hundred meters off. Stupid wimp won't know what hit him. You smile to yourself in grim satisfaction as the stranger's hive comes into view.

Dramatics have always been your thing. You used to be a pirate, after all. You know how to make a grand entrance. You know how to kill with style. You know how to, but this time you have this nagging sense that you just can't allow yourself to be flashy. Yet for some reason this hive doesn't even have any windows, just the front door. This is not what you wanted to do, but what choice do you have? Firmly setting your jaw, you feel horribly stupid walking up to their door and going right in in search of the hive's inhabitant.

The hive is dark and empty feeling. You're sure you felt someone here, though. Frowning into the unnatural darkness, you once again reach out with your mind to –

Something hard crushes against the back of your head and you screech, taking several staggering steps forward to regain your balance. Your hands fly up to the point of contact the same moment, hovering over the pulsing agony. You whip your head around to glare, earning yourself an extra painful throb or two but you'll deal with that later. For now, no one is behind you. Shit. This exclusively is the only way this whole thing could possibly go wrong. You should've known. You did know. Ugh, where's that old good luck that used to make you invincible?

You warily look around, slower this time, but you can't see anyone. The ringing in your ears makes you even more nervous and your palms begin to sweat. But outwardly you keep yourself calm, even as you feel the warm trickle from the wound on the back of your head. God you hope that isn't as serious as it feels.

The door is still just behind you. If you get out now you still have a couple hours before the sun comes up. You'll be cutting it close but definitely better late than never. You inch backwards, toeing your way to the door. You still don't see anyone, until you catch a blue-ish blur to your right. You move to face it but it's already gone.

Suddenly it hits you. What if he's been lurking in your blind spot the entire time? Your breath catches as you reach the horrible conclusion. He found out so quickly. You don't stand a chance now.

Sudden movement catches your eye and you turn, only to get a handle of a baton smashing against your face. There's a horrible crunching sound and you fail to hold in your scream. The octet spills from your hand and clatters to the floor one by one. There's a flash of blue and white light and you remember that those dice are your specibus. Duh, Vriska. Get your shit together and kill this asshole so you can go home and shut your lusus up.

The luck of the roll lands you with a simple rapier, which equals to pretty shitty but you have no time for reroll. You swing that sword around in your robot hand and hack at your assailant (you were supposed to be assailing him!) while your other hand flutters around your face, trying to find the source of all the cerulean spattering the floor amongst the mess of pain and blood that is currently your face. One finger brushes against your nose and you flinch, distracting yourself from your opponent for a split second: the stranger tries to land another hit but you have the sense to back up quickly enough to avoid more injury. Your head is pounding, your nose is bleeding furiously, and you're getting dizzy.

Goddammit, this is all your lusus' fault. Fuck her.

The other troll (your lusus' dinner, the blueblood with your neighbor's color, your attacker, whatever the fuck he is) glares at you with furious dark blue eyes and swings again at your head. You move to parry with the rapier, unprepared for the kick to the ribs that actually happens. You double over once again, trying to find the breath that was smashed out of your lungs.

He's saying something. It takes a moment to realize that his weapon is loose in his hand and he's speaking to you. You cough a few times and wait for your pan to clear enough for you to understand.

"Hey," he says, watching you carefully, "what the hell are you doing here?"

You glare at him, unable to speak for lack of air. He sighs.

"Yeah, about that," he hesitates, then continues, "I didn't mean to hurt you so much. And I don't plan on doing it again, so long as you don't attack," he finishes with a promise, dropping his baton and holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "It's just that – you know, a random troll comes barging in and – well, I took offense. I have a med kit in my respiteblock…"

Oh god. Oh god no. You clamp your mouth shut, fangs scraping your tongue and you will him to shut his own mouth but your psychic abilities have no effect on him.

"So um," he takes a faltering step forward, "I could help clean you up."

Your hand jerks forward and you behead him with a single sweep of your blade.

"Fuck you," you snarl through a mouthful of blood. The shameless pity in his eyes is still there, burning you with the sheer sincerity of it, and you kick the head away in mingled disgust and horror. There's a spot of his deep blue blood on your red sneakers and you flail around trying to wipe it off without touching it. All you can see is your lusus tearing the body of this nameless troll to shreds mercilessly. And he had tried to be kind to you.

What an idiot. He should have known what was coming.


End file.
